


Peaches and Cream

by Vav



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-20 23:07:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16564856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vav/pseuds/Vav
Summary: Hanzo's okay with it.But only if he gets his way.





	Peaches and Cream

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! i just wanted an excuse to write mchanzo smut so here we go. porn under the guise of having a plot. enjoy!

Hanzo turns the stove burner off and grabs his favorite teacup from the cabinet overhead without looking – this is like clockwork for him. It’s the eighth night in the past two weeks that he’s been unable to sleep properly. Sometimes it’s his body keeping him up, an antsy, anxious feeling coursing through his veins, refusing to let him rest. But mostly it’s his mind. He can’t shut it off. There’s always something brewing, something looming in his brain that just won’t shut up for even five minutes. Genji tells him it’s his brain’s way of compensating for the emotions that he doesn’t show while he’s awake and alert. Hanzo just huffs.

Chamomile isn’t even in Hanzo’s top five as far as tea goes. He leans against the counter and pours himself half a cup of the stuff, grimacing even though it hasn’t even met his lips yet. As much disdain as he holds for this particular type of tea, he must admit that it  _ has _ helped him considerably these past few weeks.

He has a lot on his mind. Hanzo’s only been a part of Overwatch for three months. At first, he rested so peacefully, sleeping for up to ten hours a night. He was the first to retire to bed and one of the last ones awake in the morning. Years on the run took at toll on Hanzo’s body, and it was so nice to have a comfortable, firm mattress to sink into every night. At first. Once the homecoming comfort wore off and some of the night terrors returned, Hanzo fell into a pattern of on-and-off insomnia.

“You know,” a drawl comes from one of the kitchen doorways – the one closest to Hanzo. He doesn’t even have to turn around to match the voice to the face. “If you wanna see me more often, all ya gotta do is ask.” He also doesn’t have to turn around to know there’s a shit eating grin on the face of one Jesse McCree.

It’s not Hanzo’s fault that they’ve run into each other every single time he’s come out to make tea at this hour. McCree has a tendency to be up at two in the morning as well. Well, Hanzo’s not sure if it’s a tendency, or if the first time was a fluke and McCree just keeps purposefully coming back to see him. That last bit  _ might _ be wishful thinking that Hanzo would never admit to while in his right mind. Exhaustion doesn’t fare well on the brain. Especially the part in charge of critical thinking.

“Good evening, Jesse,” Hanzo responds after a small sip of chamomile. They had ditched the last name game after their second late-night meeting. Hanzo turns his head to peer over his shoulder and sees Jesse takes a few steps closer, slowly becoming bathed in the dim glow of the backsplash lighting. He’s in his usual garb – Overwatch-issued sweatpants, a soft white t-shirt, and a pair of white ankle socks. Hanzo thinks that perhaps McCree is just as much a creature of habit as himself.

“A bit past evening, don’tcha think, sugar?” Jesse asks, hopping up to sit on the island. He lets his legs dangle as he faces Hanzo and crosses his arms over his chest. Those arms. Hanzo steals a glance as he turns around to fully face his companion, then focuses intently on the rim of his teacup. “How much longer we gonna keep doin’ this song and dance?”

“I don’t know what you are referring to,” Hanzo tells him matter-of-factly. “You have sleeping troubles as well, do you not? Would you like a cup of chamomile?”

Jesse heaves a great sigh and leans back, placing his palms on the island with his arms outstretched behind him. They stare at each other a moment, Hanzo actually meeting his gaze and refusing to look away. He’s supposed to be winding down, but for some reason, Jesse’s presence in the kitchen always gets him annoyingly riled up. The cowboy wears a stupid smirk almost all the time, and he saunters around like he owns the place. Perhaps he feels entitled due to his history with the organization, but he comes into the kitchen like he owns Hanzo as well. It irritates the archer to no end.

“So you’re gonna stand there and tell me you come out here damn near every night because you got insomnia?” Jesse asks, nearing exasperation. Hanzo hears an ounce of desperation in the gunslinger’s voice, and something uncomfortable twists in his belly. He has the urge to gulp down the rest of his chamomile and leave, but he knows he would regret the singed tongue in the morning.

“What, am I the only one on this whole base with such an ailment? Are you telling me you wander out of bed at this hour for fun?” Hanzo sasses him and sips steadily at the hot tea. McCree begins to study him from head to toe, and Hanzo hates it. There’s something palpable and unspoken that lies between them – they both know it – but Hanzo’s plan is to ignore it for as long as possible. It’s better that way. It leaves less room for embarrassment.

Jesse just offers him a complacent shrug. It’s completely maddening. Hanzo notes the stretch of Jesse’s t-shirt across his pecs as he’s lounging up on the counter in that position. It’s equally as maddening. They sit in silence for a while as Hanzo attempts to polish off his cup of tea. Usually he’d feel more relaxed by now, but something about the way Jesse’s looking at him has him wired. The man’s body language and his aggravating,  _ knowing _ expression have Hanzo hyper-aware of every twitch of a limb, every bat of an eyelash.

“Why don’t you pour me a cup of that tea?” McCree pipes up just as Hanzo’s nearing the end of his own pour. Hanzo does his best to mask his eye roll as he turns around, but the snort from McCree tells him he failed.

Hanzo opens the cabinet back up and grabs a teacup identical to his own. He lets out a breath through his nose and reaches for the kettle once more. Before he can lay a finger on it, however, there’s a wall of warmth at his back that makes him draw a sharp breath in. Of course it’s Jesse. He had slid off of the island and crossed the space between them without Hanzo even noticing. The man is too light-footed and nimble for his stature, Hanzo thinks. But Hanzo knows it’s really his own lapse in observation that caused Jesse to surprise him like so.

“So you don’t feel nothin’ when I do this?” Jesse murmurs right into Hanzo’s ear, which is left exposed by Hanzo’s last minute decision to pull his hair up into a sloppy bun before leaving his quarters. Jesse slides his left arm down Hanzo’s own until he has the shorter man’s hand pinned down to the countertop, and his right settles on Hanzo’s waist, thumb rubbing small circles into the fabric of Hanzo’s pajamas.

“Just annoyed,” Hanzo replies, though his voice betrays his intended bite. Jesse hums in response to that and noses at Hanzo’s earlobe. “Do you want tea or not?” Jesse has to laugh, a sweet, low rumble that has Hanzo closing his eyes and fighting off a shiver. He can’t do this. Not here.

“I know you don’t even like that stupid tea anyways,” Jesse eggs him on. “I don’t blame ya. Tastes like dirt, that one does.” Hanzo unashamedly rolls his eyes now, and tries to focus on anything but the contrast of the cool press of Jesse’s prosthetic hand with his flesh hand teasing Hanzo’s side, warmth easily radiating through the thin fabric there.

“You think all tea tastes like dirt,” Hanzo points out as Jesse begins to sway them slightly from side to side. He can feel Jesse smile against the soft skin below his ear, and it’s intoxicating to Hanzo. Dangerous. “Coffee, then? I can make decaf.” Jesse hums in thought, though Hanzo already knows he’ll refuse.

“Decaf’s no good. I think I might need a li’l boost of energy tonight,” Jesse all but growls against Hanzo’s neck. Something surges through Hanzo, causing his cheeks to turn an embarrassing shade of pink and his knees to briefly buckle before he fully composes himself. This isn’t him. It can’t be him. He easily breaks out of Jesse’s grasp, teacups clinking against the countertop as they get scattered about.

“Goodnight, Agent McCree,” Hanzo says sternly over his shoulder. “If you could clean up the tea, that would be greatly appreciated.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

He’s got no choice but to give up. They had been harmlessly flirting the past few times they met up in the kitchen – well, Jesse was doing most of the flirting while Hanzo would scoff or roll his eyes. But Jesse knows rejection when it slaps him in the face. He must have just been reading the signals wrong. He’s never been good with men, anyway. At least not the ones he meets someplace that’s  _ not _ a skeevy dive bar on the outskirts of whatever town he’s been assigned to for a mission.

Jesse flops down face-first onto his bed after muttering some curses to himself. Maybe he should have had some of the tea instead of making an advance on his teammate, his goddamn  _ coworker _ . Maybe that’d help him go to sleep instead of having to deal with his awkward rejection erection. He can’t help it. Hanzo’s still the prettiest thing he’s laid eyes on in a long, long while. The way that Hanzo didn’t necessarily resist his advances until he got too close makes something stir low in McCree’s belly. He doesn’t need this right now.

“Fuckin’ archers, man,” he grumbles to himself and turns over, throwing an arm over his eyes to shield him from the dim light of the room. Even though he’s alone, Jesse wants to hide. He’d love nothing more than to escape into the night for a few weeks and come back relaxed and sun-kissed. He tries to sleep – he really does. But if his mind’s not racing, his heart is. All he feels is restlessness. He needs a smoke.

Jesse rolls off of the bed and makes his way over to the discarded pair of jeans he left on the chair by his dresser. He feels around all the pockets until he comes across the back right one, where he stored his cigarillos for the day. He slips the box out and grabs a single smoke, along with a lighter from the top of his dresser. Might as well have one good thing tonight.

Jesse makes his way to the door, but a harsh knock stops him dead in his tracks. It must be an emergency – perhaps a mission popped up in the dead of night and Winston needs him gone instantly. Fuck, that’d be much better than dealing with whatever’s going on inside him right now. But he knows it’s not that. There would have been sirens and flashing lights and a message ringing through the intercom system.

He doesn’t realize how long he’s been standing there until the knock on the door returns. He shakes his head, pops the cigarillo in his mouth, pockets the lighter, and resumes the walk to the door. It’s got to be either Lena or Hana. They usually come to him when they have nightmares. He’s had enough experience with those to know how to coax them down from the fear and adrenaline enough for them to get back to sleep. It’s not fun, but it’s nice to be able to provide some comfort.

Jesse taps a few buttons on the touch screen near the door and peers out into the darkness of the hallway as it slides open. His eyes widen when he sees who’s out there.

Hanzo has his fist raised to knock once more, an irritated expression plaguing his face. The blue lights in the hallway are dim, and Jesse can just barely make out the slight smirk that grows on Hanzo’s lips. The archer changed his clothes. Jesse wasn’t aware that there had been enough time for that between their run-in in the kitchen and Hanzo standing here before him. He must have zoned out longer than he imagined. Hanzo’s outfitted in an everyday hakama and kyudo-gi, the type of clothes he usually saves for meditation, less intensive missions, and trips to town.

“I thought you were going to–”

Jesse can’t finish his sentence. Hanzo snatches the cigarillo from Jesse’s lips, discards it over his shoulder, presses one firm hand over the cowboy’s mouth, and pushes Jesse back into his room with the other. Jesse makes a surprised noise in the back of his throat, eyebrows shooting up toward his hairline. Is this how he dies? Has Hanzo come to punish him for his actions? He knew he fucked up, but he didn’t think it was this bad. The door automatically closes behind them, and then Jesse’s being pressed up against his own goddamn wall. Hanzo finally removes the hand from Jesse’s mouth.

“You are a fool,” Hanzo tells him gruffly, and Jesse doesn’t mean for it to happen, but a whole lot more blood begins to rush south. Usually Hanzo’s tone isn’t much different, but the gravel in his voice is apparent. It’s a mixture of exhaustion and anger and Jesse can’t help but be turned on, especially with the way Hanzo’s hand is still resting firmly on his sternum.

“I know, I know, Hanzo,” Jesse begins, vaguely out of breath for reasons beyond his control. Hanzo’s eyes are narrowed at him, that same subtle smirk still plastered on his face, and Jesse’s mouth begins to water. “Just let me –”

“You really thought you could have the upper hand?” Hanzo inquires condescendingly. Before Jesse can process the question, Hanzo has both of his hands pinned against the wall to the sides of his head, caramel brown hair disheveled from his failed attempts at sleep. “You thought I’d give into you so easily?” Jesse swallows thickly and searches every inch of Hanzo’s face, now better illuminated by the lamps of the room, for some semblance of what he’s feeling.

“Shit, sweetheart,” is all the gunslinger can manage, and it’s the most pathetic thing that’s ever left his lips. Hanzo leans into him a bit more, pressing so hard Jesse’s one flesh wrist might bruise. He’s purposely keeping distance between their lower halves, and Jesse catches himself thrusting upward slightly, searching for any ounce of friction Hanzo’s willing to give him. Which is none.

“ _ Sweetheart _ this, and  _ honeybee _ that,” Hanzo mocks him, but there’s no real venom to his words. That went out the window the second his breathing became labored as he looked at Jesse’s parted lips. “Do you know how insufferable you are?”

“But it’s workin’, ain’t it?” Jesse responds, and juts his head forward to try to capture Hanzo’s lips in a kiss, but the archer pulls back enough to dodge the attempt. “Aww, don’t be like that. I just want some sugar, sugar.” Jesse bites his bottom lip as he looks Hanzo up and down. There’s a nipple peeking out of his kyudo-gi that Jesse just wants to get his mouth around. He’s only been thinking about it for _ months _ . He’s honestly surprised he’s gone this long without flat out asking Hanzo if he’d like to come back to his quarters.

Hanzo’s reply is a thigh shoved between Jesse’s legs. He lets go of Jesse’s wrists and slips his fingers beneath the soft cotton of Jesse’s sleep shirt, fingers trailing up and down the hot skin of his sides and belly. Jesse rolls his head back, the wall of his room much less comfortable than a pillow, but at this point, he’ll take what he can get. He’d let Hanzo throw him on top of a pile of rocks if it meant those skilled fingers were touching him. Jesse leans in for a kiss once more, the kiss he’s been yearning and  _ aching _ for, but Hanzo turns his head to the side. A guttural growl rips through the archer.

“Get on the bed,” Hanzo orders, and then he’s off of Jesse entirely, stepping back to adjust his hakama and tuck a loose strand of hair behind his ear. As if Jesse would care about the aesthetic state of the visitor in his room. He’s seen Hanzo drenched in sweat, clothes and hair clinging to his beet red skin after a workout, and he’s still wanted him. He always has. There’s something carnal and desperate and needy inside of him that has him on high alert anytime he’s within ten feet of the archer.

Jesse all but launches himself back onto his bed. He lays on his back and props himself up on his elbows as Hanzo stalks to the foot of the bed. Jesse’s got his legs spread almost as far as they can go, and he knows the bulge in his sweatpants is apparent. Hanzo, the bastard, must have worn the damn hakama to hide any evidence of his arousal. Or just to drive Jesse crazy. Either way, his heart leaps at the determined look on Hanzo’s face. Jesse’s not used to being stared at like a piece of meat by a lover, but Hanzo looks like a jaguar ready to pounce, and it’s making it harder for Jesse to sit still.

“You gonna fuck me or what?” Jesse asks impatiently and spreads his legs a little wider, shifting his hips up and out so Hanzo gets the idea. In all of his fantasies about this scenario, he was always the one on top, but in this moment, he wants nothing more than for Hanzo to do as he damn well pleases with his body. Hanzo just stares at him more, and Jesse has to roll his eyes. “Comin’ in here all huffy and puffy and now y’don’t even wanna touch me.” Hanzo kneels on the very edge of the bed.

“All,” he begins. “I have ever.” Hanzo stalks forward on his hands and knees, careful not to touch Jesse’s legs and give him any unearned satisfaction. “ _ Thought _ .” Hanzo flares his nostrils. “About.” Jesse sucks in a breath as Hanzo crawls until his head is hovering over Jesse’s lower belly. “Is touching you.” Jesse barely has time to let his breath out before Hanzo plops himself down on his lap. Jesse bends at the waist to sit up and wrap his arms around Hanzo, which the archer surprisingly allows.

Hanzo takes Jesse’s face in both his hands and finally,  _ finally _ leans in to press their lips together. There’s an ounce of tenderness that lasts for all of two seconds before Hanzo’s tongue impatiently prods at Jesse’s dry lips. Jesse eagerly allows him access, and as their tongues mingle, Jesse feels a leap in Hanzo’s loose pants against his belly. Jesse can’t help but groan, and Hanzo furrows his brow then deepens the kiss.

“So we coulda been doin’  _ this _ all this time?” Jesse breaks the kiss and whines, and it’s not his proudest moment. Hanzo relocates one hand to the back of Jesse’s head and tugs at his shaggy hair, pulling Jesse’s head back and making him look up at the ceiling. “Easy there, sweet pea –  _ ah _ !” He’s interrupted by Hanzo’s lips and tongue on his neck, the sensation quickly overriding the sharp pain he just endured. Hanzo’s teeth scrape delicately against a sensitive part of Jesse’s neck, and Jesse’s certain he won’t be able to last much longer if the archer keeps at it.

“I like to take my time,” Hanzo murmurs next to Jesse’s ear, much like Jesse had done to him in the kitchen earlier. He sucks Jesse’s earlobe into his mouth, the sound and the sensation equally obscene, and Jesse lets out another embarrassing moan. However, it must only be embarrassing to him, for he can feel Hanzo’s erection growing and pressing hard against his stomach. “And I had to make sure you were even  _ worth _ my time.” Jesse feels like his body’s been laid down on hot coals. Every nerve ending is on fire and he needs Hanzo inside him, below him, behind him, however the fuck he wants to do this.

“Well, now that I seem to have –  _ nngh _ – proved my worth,” Jesse barely manages to get out in between Hanzo’s nips and licks to the junction of his neck and jaw, “you gonna fuck me or what?” Hanzo doesn’t respond, just keeps attacking Jesse’s neck like he’s got a dire need to taste flesh. Jesse uses the opportunity to slide his hand over the skin exposed by Hanzo’s kyudo-gi and thumb at the dark nipple there.

“No,” Hanzo growls, and Jesse freezes immediately. The last thing he wants is to ruin any part of this. So if Hanzo doesn’t want to be touched, doesn’t want to be touched  _ there _ , then so be it. “I’m going to  _ use _ you, Jesse McCree.”

Hanzo pushes Jesse onto his back and begins to ruck up the fabric of the other man’s sleep shirt. Jesse just stares at him in awe. Hanzo stays up on his knees to avoid any contact between Jesse’s erection and his own. He can feel a small, wet stain forming on the front of his billowing pants, but he hopes Jesse doesn’t notice. He doesn’t want to give the impression that he’s over eager and impossibly horny, even though he is absolutely both of those things.

“Fuck, baby, you can do whatever you want to me,” Jesse tells him breathlessly. He lets Hanzo pull his shirt up and over his head. Jesse runs a hand down his own torso, wiggling his hips a bit on the bed to show off his chest and abs, as if Hanzo wasn’t looking at them already. “I’m all yours. I swear it.” Hanzo hums in amusement and offers Jesse the first genuinely happy smile of the night, eyes crinkled at the corners.

“I can’t believe you ever thought you could have control over me,” Hanzo thinks out loud, though his voice remains level and a tad stern. “I kiss you once and you’re practically bending at the knee for me.”

“I’d bend at the knee for you any day of the week,” Jesse responds with a wink. “Just name a time and a place and I’ll be there.” He begins to push down his sweatpants, but Hanzo stops him in order to tug his own kyudo-gi free from his pants. Jesse props himself up on a prosthetic elbow to help Hanzo push the garment off, to which Hanzo obliges. Jesse catches him off guard and pulls him down on top of him so their chests are flush against each other, noses nearly touching. “But don’t you think for even one second that I couldn’t turn you into a pretty little puddle with just the sound of my voice.”

Hanzo shivers at that, and his nostrils flare once more, upset with himself for showing a lack of composure more than anything. Inside, he knows he’s anxious for the day when he allows Jesse to completely wreck him and reduce him to a blubbering mess who can barely remember his own name, but that’s not what tonight is about. Hanzo has already won, but so has Jesse with that one little shiver.

There’s a hard, unfamiliar press against one of Jesse’s nipples that has the cowboy furrowing his brow in confusion. He tilts his head to the side, Hanzo’s face mere inches away from his, and opens his mouth to speak. Nothing comes out, though, and Hanzo guides Jesse’s flesh hand to his chest. Jesse’s fingers fumble across Hanzo’s other nipple, the one always tucked away inside his kyudo-gi or masked by whatever workout shirt he chooses to wear to the training arena.

“Oh, hell,” Jesse groans, and Hanzo offers him nothing but a sly grin as he removes his hand to let Jesse play. “Fuckin’  _ shit _ , Hanzo, if this ain’t the sexist thing I ever did see.” Jesse’s found the culprit – a thin metal bar pierced through Hanzo’s right nipple with a metal ball on either end. Hanzo sits back up to truly straddle Jesse, who pinches and rolls Hanzo’s nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Jesse has to switch to his left hand for easier access to Hanzo’s right nipple, and he tentatively swipes across the reddened bud with his prosthetic thumb. “That okay?”

“Yes,” Hanzo responds immediately, doing his best not to give away his arousal, though he knows Jesse can definitely feel it pressed against his own cock. There’s something about the contact of metal on metal that makes Hanzo shiver again. The day Jesse finally gets Hanzo beneath him will be a dangerous one. “Take your pants off.”

“Shit, as you wish, darlin’,” Jesse murmurs gruffly, and he reluctantly lets go of Hanzo’s chest so both men can adequately position themselves to remove their respective pants. Hanzo eyes Jesse and waits until the waistband of his sweatpants dips just below the trimmed thatch of hair he’s sporting before Hanzo begins to take off his hakama. They don’t break eye contact with the other the entire time. Jesse smirks as he pushes his sweats all the way down to mid-thigh, then clasps his hands behind his head as if this is the most casual thing in the world.

Hanzo’s eyes finally trail down to glance at Jesse’s length. And what a length it is. He always suspected Jesse would be well-endowed, but his fantasies pale in comparison to the real thing. Jesse’s cock is about as long as Hanzo had imagined – or maybe _ hoped _ – but the girth has the archer salivating. He knows Jesse would probably appreciate his hot mouth around his cock, but Hanzo has other plans in mind.

“Why don’tcha take a picture, honey? It sure would last longer,” Jesse drawls, his cock twitching to one side. Hanzo has to close his eyes and take a deep breath in order to not get ahead of himself.

“Insufferable,” Hanzo reminds him under his breath, and Jesse chuckles in response. The chuckle devolves into an interested, appreciative hum when Hanzo drops his own pants and places his hands on his hips, somewhat framing his upright dick.

“Jesus, Hanzo,” Jesse says as he shakes his head. “Can’t imagine anything more perfect than you.” It softens Hanzo’s heart just the slightest bit. He doesn’t want to get mushy and sentimental right in the middle of attempting to ruin Jesse’s life, but dammit if the attention and praise doesn’t feel good. Jesse notes the widening of Hanzo’s pupils at his words and files the information away for another time. And there will be another time. He’d give his other arm to be sure of it.

Jesse reaches out to grip Hanzo’s stiff cock, and the archer lets out the slightest hint of a groan in response. He lets Jesse stroke him a few times, lets him get a feel for the velvety foreskin, before Hanzo backs up to fully remove his hakama. Jesse takes the opportunity to do the same with his own sweatpants, and it takes all of Hanzo’s energy not to grab onto Jesse’s muscular thighs for dear life. The team likes to make jokes about how much food Jesse can stuff into his body on a daily basis and how he’s getting soft in the middle, but all Hanzo can see is toned muscle and tanned skin from head to toe.

“If you think I am perfect now, you may not be able to handle what I have in store for you,” Hanzo challenges as he straddles Jesse once more. He grants Jesse a kiss, two kisses before taking Jesse’s flesh hand in his own once more. Hanzo scoots up Jesse’s body just a few inches, which has Jesse’s eyes widening even more than they already are.

Hanzo guides Jesse’s hand toward his cock, to which Jesse licks his lips, but then he diverts and dips Jesse’s hand below his balls. Jesse is more than happy to play with those too, but Hanzo keeps guiding his hand a little bit further back. Hanzo removes his own hand and raises a perfectly manicured brow at Jesse. Jesse bites his bottom lip once more and presses a finger upward, expecting to find a lovely puckered hole waiting for him. What he finds instead is a slick, slightly gaped hole that tenses just a bit at his touch.

“ _ Baby _ ,” Jesse flat out whines, and raises both of his hands above his head, pantomiming surrender. “Yer makin’ all my fuckin’ dreams come true, you know that?” Hanzo gives him a tight-lipped grin, then leans down for an open-mouthed kiss. “I still want you to fuck me sometime.” Hanzo grinds his cock against Jesse’s belly at that, and Jesse smiles into their kiss.

“This…isn’t about you,” Hanzo tells him weakly. Jesse raises his brows and moves his hands to drag them up Hanzo’s thighs.

“Oh?” Jesse inquires. This time, he circles his prosthetic hand around Hanzo’s cock, and Hanzo nearly convulses at the foreign sensation. A drop of precum oozes out of his slit, catches on his foreskin, then drips down onto Jesse’s stomach as the cowboy strokes him. “ _ This _ isn’t about me?” Of course it’s about him. It’s always been about him and Hanzo’s starting to fear that it always will be. He just wasn’t expecting Jesse to be so damn good at undermining his authority. But in hindsight, he doesn’t know why he expected any different.

“Where do you keep your condoms?” Hanzo asks to change the subject. Jesse lazily runs his tongue along his bottom lip and lets go of Hanzo’s flushed prick.

“Big boss man didn’t bring the goods? You know, I’m startin’ to think you –” Jesse’s cut off by Hanzo’s cock pushing against his lips. He immediately accepts, and Hanzo’s cock is soon enveloped by sinfully hot wetness. Jesse just suckles on the tip – it’s all Hanzo will give him, but it’s enough to be eternally thankful for.

“I knew this would shut you up,” Hanzo grins devilishly as he stares at the man below him. “Cockslut.” Jesse’s eyes roll back before he shuts them completely, and the cowboy points eagerly at the nightstand to his left as drool dribbles down his chin from his eager sucking and licking. Hanzo pulls out of Jesse’s mouth, both to get the condom easier and to not blow his load right then and there. He bets Jesse could take him all the way down, and he shivers at the thought.

“Oh,  _ I’m _ the cockslut? I’m not the one who finger fucked himself then begged to get into my quarters after hours,” Jesse tells him, and Hanzo flushes down to his chest at the phrasing. It’s true. But something flares up inside the archer.

“ _ Begged _ ?” Hanzo asks with some bite to his voice after grabbing a condom and a small bottle of lube from Jesse’s bedside drawer. “As I recall, you were ready to take me over the kitchen counter less than an hour ago.” Also true. Jesse would have Hanzo on every surface of the base if he’d let him. His cock twitches at the thought. Hanzo tosses the condom onto Jesse’s hairy chest and nods at him to do it himself. “Do it right. I don’t like a mess.” Jesse gives him a lazy, lopsided grin.

“Oh, please,” Jesse shakes his head and tears open the condom wrapper. “The way I saw you starin’ at my cock, I think you’d like a  _ big _ mess. Maybe on your face.” He tosses the foil to the side and begins to roll the condom onto his own leaking erection. His eyes find Hanzo’s nipple piercing yet again. “Maybe on those tits.” Hanzo scoffs at the word, but he can’t hide his blush. “Maybe damn near anywhere I could give it to ya.”

Hanzo stays silent, ignoring Jesse, and pops open the bottle of lubricant. Once Jesse has the condom on completely, Hanzo squeezes out a sizable dollop onto the head of Jesse’s cock, then sets down the bottle and gets to work stroking Jesse. Jesse lets out some overly-pleased groans that have Hanzo both irked and unfathomably worked up. Jesse’s dick feels so much bigger than it looks, and Hanzo has a flash of panic before he realizes that literally nothing could get in the way of him taking Jesse like a champ. He’s wanted this for far too long, fantasized about it on all those sleepless nights.

“You need to learn some discipline, Jesse,” Hanzo informs him on a tantalizing upstroke. “How about we start with this? You’re not allowed to cum until I say so.” Jesse’s cheeks heat up and his mouth goes dry. He can hear his own heartbeat in his ears, and as Hanzo finishes stroking him, he realizes that he’s about to be in more danger than he had originally thought. He thought that perhaps he could get on Hanzo’s good side and give him a quick, hard fuck that leaves them both satisfied. But Hanzo’s on a different wavelength. Hanzo came in here with a plan, and Jesse’s sure he won’t leave until he has the cowboy thoroughly strung out. “After all, you said you’re all mine.”

“Y-yeah,” Jesse agrees. He’s a lot of things, but he’s certainly not a liar. There was just no way for him to know that Hanzo would want to be this dominant. Hanzo gives Jesse a sweet smile as he uses the excess lube on his own hole, making sure he’s stretched enough to accept Jesse’s girth without too much pain. “Fuck, Hanzo. Yer hotter than sin itself.” His voice is low and husky, arousal running thick in his veins, and it makes Hanzo’s cock jump once more.

Hanzo fails to speak once more. His heart is hammering in his chest, and he has to take a long, grounding look at Jesse to make sure this is all real. Jesse reaches out with a warm, flesh hand to squeeze one of Hanzo’s milky thighs. Jesse holds the base of his cock with his prosthetic, but that is quickly replaced with Hanzo’s dominant hand as he lines himself up. Jesse can see the vulnerability in his eyes, and it makes everything that much more real, especially since he knows Hanzo can switch back into a domineering role at the drop of a hat.

It takes a few shifts of position, but when the head of Jesse’s cock pushes past Hanzo’s entrance, they both let go of breaths they didn’t know the other had been holding. Jesse’s nails dig into Hanzo’s leg, leaving half-moon indents in their wake. He wants Hanzo to do the same to him. He wants scratches all down his chest and back, wants bruises to litter his collarbone, wants fingerprints marked into his hips. One step at a time, he tells himself.

“Baby,” Jesse coos as Hanzo sinks halfway down his length. The archer still has one hand gripping the base of Jesse’s cock, and he uses the other to steady himself on Jesse’s broad chest. “Talk to me, baby. How does it feel? You okay?”

“Yes, I’m okay,” Hanzo half snaps, but his voice is laden with slight pain. “I wish I had known to…prepare myself more.” Jesse eyes soften with concern, and he moves his hand up to hold onto Hanzo’s hip and keep him from moving.

“Sugar, I can prepare you more myself if you’d like,” Jesse drawls, and Hanzo absolutely hates the effect it has on him. He doesn’t want Jesse to want to care for him. That just makes things more complicated. “I’ll lay ya down real nice and split you wide open with my fingers ‘til you can’t take it anymore. Maybe make you cum from that alone before I give you my cock.” Jesse’s sporting a mischievous grin now, and it makes Hanzo push his hand away from his hip.

Hanzo leans more onto Jesse’s chest and pulls his hips up ever so slightly before grinding back down to fit more of Jesse’s dick inside of him. He’s still not bottomed out, but the feeling is beginning to melt from burning pain to immeasurable bliss. He repeats his movement a few more times, pulling out until Jesse’s crown catches on his rim then sinking back down. Jesse’s making the most delicious sounds already – grunts and sighs and moans of every pitch – and Hanzo wants nothing more than to give him the ride of his life.

“I always thought your arrogance was a means of overcompensation,” Hanzo teases, taking a deep breath as he finally sinks all the way down until Jesse’s balls are pressed snug up against his cheeks.

“Naw, I’m just arrogant so I can try and attract a prick like you,” Jesse spits back, but they’re both struggling to breathe too much to take each other seriously. “I’m glad it fuckin’ worked –  _ fuck, _ Hanzo. So tight for me, so good.” Jesse’s heavy breathing has his speech devolving into semi-nonsense, extra syllables strewn about here and there. “Never had somethin’ so delicious in my lap before, I’ll tell ya that much.”

Jesse wraps his arms around Hanzo and muscles his way up to the head of the bed, so he can lean against his pillows and watch Hanzo bounce on him. He props himself up and is immediately met with a fiery kiss, Hanzo licking at the roof of his mouth as they both begin to move. Hanzo grips the headboard with one hand and Jesse’s shoulder with the other as Jesse’s hands settle on Hanzo’s perky ass. Hanzo groans into Jesse’s mouth as he spreads his cheeks and gives a hard thrust upward, heels digging into the mattress where he’d spent countless nights thinking about this exact scenario and touching himself because of it.

“Jesse,” escapes Hanzo’s lips, and his cheeks turn a brilliant shade of pink the second he realize what he’s done. He’s past the point of caring, however, and just screws his eyes shut as he bounces on the cowboy’s cock with fervor. He hasn’t felt this full in a long,  _ long _ time, and he can’t think of anyone better than Jesse to get the job done for him. Jesse silently thanks whatever gods are listening for Hanzo’s legs and ass – the pure strength of them allows Jesse to take a back seat of sorts and let Hanzo’s hips do most of the talking. Jesse’s mouth does the rest.

“Christ alive, Hanzo, baby, sugar,  _ fuck _ !” Jesse moans, beads of sweat forming on his forehead to match Hanzo’s. “Y’feel s’good on my cock sweetheart, don’t want you to ever leave my lap.” Hanzo bottoms out and just rocks in Jesse’s lap, grinding the thick head of his even thicker cock against his prostate. One of Jesse’s hands comes up to tweak Hanzo’s pierced nipple, which has Hanzo arching his back even more.

“Shit,” is all Hanzo gives Jesse, but his facial expression says it all. Hanzo’s face is completely contorted, eyes narrowed and eyebrows furrowed in concentration, but mouth agape in undeniable pleasure.

“That’s it, Hanzo,” Jesse coaxes him, “Use me, baby. Use me just like you said you would. That cock gonna make you cum? Hm? That good for ya?” Hanzo feels the too-familiar coil in his belly and nearly pulls himself all the way off of Jesse’s dick. He would have, too, if he didn’t think that being apart from the cowboy’s body for even a second may actually kill him. “God, you’ve got me so close already.”

“Remember what I said, cowboy,” Hanzo reminds him, one eyebrow arched despite his flushed face and chest giving away his lack of composure. “Discipline.” Jesse nods in obedience and returns both of his hands behind Hanzo to knead at his ass, seemingly trying to distract himself as Hanzo lowers himself once more. “Touch me.” Jesse’s brows draw together in momentary confusion until Hanzo manually moves one of Jesse’s hands from his ass to his cock. “ _ Touch me _ .”

The two men writhe together, hands slick with sweat but touching all over one another. Hanzo picks up his pace and rides Jesse like it’s the last time they’re ever going to see each other. He does his best to time his grinding with Jesse’s strokes on his cock, but they’re both too tired and far gone to match them up perfectly. Jesse has to move his prosthetic hand down to his own balls and squeeze the base of his dick every so often so he doesn’t shoot off before Hanzo.

“Jesse,” Hanzo pants, angling his ministrations so his prostate bears the brunt of every thrust down onto Jesse’s throbbing cock. “ _ Oh _ , I’m – Jesse…”

“Yeah? Let go, baby. Wanna see you cum all over my chest, Hanzo. Give it to me,” Jesse prompts, and Hanzo can’t believe that he’s actually going to listen to this man, actually going to give in. He’s hardly stopped running his mouth the entire time, either giving loud encouragements or murmured praises – both of which have Hanzo absolutely weak.

Hanzo slams back down one last time, Jesse’s cockhead meeting his prostate, before he’s spurting over Jesse’s hand and stomach, thick white strands coating slick, sweaty skin. He’s wordless as he cums, but Jesse doesn’t care. He’s mesmerized by Hanzo’s face, nose wrinkled and mouth open in a silent yell, and his tensed muscles, particularly the ones grabbing his cock so very, very tight.

Hanzo doesn’t get more than a few breaths before Jesse’s launching them forward so that Hanzo’s on his back with Jesse on top of him. He’s never really been a fan of missionary, but he’s so drunk on Jesse’s cock that he’ll take it just about any way as he comes down from his orgasm. Jesse pounds into him with passion, hand still on Hanzo’s softening cock. Their noses are touching, and Jesse leans down for a hungry kiss as he hooks one of Hanzo’s ankles over his shoulder.

“Please, Hanzo,” Jesse begs, not letting up on the timing and intensity of his thrusts. “I’ve been so good, baby. Let you use my cock and everything.” Strands of long hair stick to his forehead now, and Hanzo can taste the salty sweat of his upper lip the next time they kiss. All Hanzo can do is stare. “Please.” He nods then, giving Jesse the wordless go ahead to cum inside him. He gives one, two, “ _ Fuck _ ,” three last thrusts before he’s gone, burying himself halfway inside Hanzo as he spills into the condom. He mutters “Hanzo, Hanzo,  _ Hanzo _ ,” like a mantra as his body shakes and shivers with his orgasm.

“Jesse,” Hanzo replies, most of his strength leaving his body as he’s been reduced to a pile of skin and bones beneath the cowboy. Jesse gives one last thrust before he pulls out and rolls onto his back to lie right next to Hanzo. They let their breathing even out, Jesse trying to match Hanzo’s steady inhales, before Hanzo props himself up on his side to look at Jesse. All Jesse can do for the moment is turn his head to look at Hanzo.

“Well ain’t you the prettiest sight this side of the Mississippi?” Jesse murmurs, and Hanzo rolls his eyes. Hanzo knows he’s a disheveled mess. His bun came loose, causing his hair to spill down around his shoulders, and he’s still flushed red from his cheeks down to his pecs. His legs will not be in working condition for at least twelve hours, so he supposes it’s for the best that Jesse fucked him in a bed instead of against a kitchen counter. Jesse keeps their eyes locked to distract Hanzo from the fact that he’s rolling the condom off of his spent cock, but Hanzo looks down anyway. There’s a slight twinge in his belly that tells him sometime in the future, he’ll be able to do this with Jesse all night long.

“Do you think you’ll be able to sleep now?” Hanzo asks as Jesse knots the condom and tosses it toward his wastebasket, thankfully making it in. Jesse’s eyelashes flutter as he looks at Hanzo again, and he simply nods.

“Should be easy enough after that, shit,” Jesse smirks and stretches out his legs. Their heads are at the foot of the bed and Jesse’s got Hanzo’s cum all over him still, but neither of them make any effort to move. It takes half a minute of lazily studying each other’s faces before Jesse becomes a little too disgusted with his physical state and gets up to wash off in the sink in his small en suite bathroom.

He runs cold water from the tap and grabs a wash cloth to scrub away sweat and other fluids from his chest and belly before the hair there gets too matted. He considers a full shower, but his heart’s already pounding at the thought of Hanzo not being there once Jesse returns to bed after his two minute freshening. A long shower would certainly leave Hanzo bored enough to return to his own quarters.

When Jesse walks back out to the main room, he finds Hanzo sitting on one side of the bed, outfitted in one of Jesse’s old Blackwatch t-shirts and a clean pair of plaid boxers. His favorite pair, actually.

“Damn, don’t you clean up nice?” Jesse groans in amazement and flops down into bed with Hanzo. “Those clothes look better on you’n they do on me.” Hanzo offers a small smirk, but Jesse can see the exhaustion in his eyes. Jesse lays flat on his back on his side of the bed, sweeping the bottle of lube off the covers and onto the floor. Hanzo mimics his position.

“Do you like to…do anything after?” Hanzo asks tentatively, and it’s the most timid Jesse’s ever seen him. He supposes it makes sense, given that they’re out of the headspace of their pseudo-hate fuck and have to deal with each other as rational, non-horny human beings.

“I’d get a smoke if they weren’t so damn far away,” Jesse shrugs, but the look in Hanzo’s eyes tells him that’s not what he means. Jesse immediately turns on his side and adopts that shit eating grin once more. “Hanzo Shimada, do you wanna cuddle?”

“I just want to make sure I didn’t scare you with…anything,” Hanzo admits, though he doesn’t deny Jesse’s question. Jesse scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“Baby, that was hotter than the Devil goin’ down to Georgia,” Jesse assures him, and although Hanzo doesn’t necessarily know exactly what that means, he takes it as a good sign. “You can boss me around any hour of the day. Just don’t expect me to be all peaches and cream about it all the time.” Jesse throws him a wink and stretches one of his arms out for Hanzo to curl into, using the other arm to pull the sheet up to his belly button for decency.

“You’re right,” Hanzo sighs and nuzzles into a hairy pec, yawning as he can barely keep his eyes open. “I shouldn’t expect the peaches, but I most certainly got the cream.”

**Author's Note:**

> come yell with me on tumblr at lokisbutt, or just drop your kudos/comments here!!! also if yall want like...a second chapter for the morning after i'd be...so down to write that but didnt wanna be Too Extra. lmk!


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